Taking Chances
by Cursed Detective
Summary: Just because the chance is lost, does not mean you cannot make - and TAKE - another (Heavily implied male in love with male). Part 3 of the Chances 'verse.
1. 1 Declaring

_So, third and final story in the Chances 'verse. Strongly recommend reading in order. Haven't got an exact on chapter number, but it'll be short. Also, DC/MK are still not mine._

 ** _1  
Declaring_**

A near-gleaming, flawless headstone with an engraved name and epitaph still sharp-edged and new had the most intricate flower arrangement the gardener for the old cemetery had ever seen. He'd seen hundreds, over the years, and during those years he'd learned many, many meanings of both flowers and arrangements, but this one…

Three red and three white rosebuds, woven together in alternating colors around a single white chrysanthemum, a further weaving of locust-tree leaves, thin aspen branches, and asphodel hiding still-thorny stems that a closer look revealed tiny blood-spots on some of the sharp points. Around the base of the woven leaves was another weave, a wreath holding the first message upright. Marigold and mourning bride, close in to the base of the leaves, and then further down and a little wider, more. Black-eyed Susan, syringa, birdsfoot trefoil, yarrow, and purple columbine. Message upon message, and the old man hadn't known what half of them meant.

Red-and-white together meant unity, but they weren't full-bloom roses. They were buds. So. Love and purity? Love and loyalty? He wasn't sure. White chrysanthemum: truth. So, truthful purity of love or truthful loyalty of love. Aspen, asphodel, and locust leaves—lamentation, regret that follows to the grave, and love beyond death. A heartbreaking beginning.

Marigold and mourning bride, grief and loss of all.

Black-eyed Susan for justice, syringa for memory, trefoil and yarrow for vengeance and war, and purple columbine for resolve to win.

He had carefully not looked at the name, the first time, when he'd taken a picture of the arrangement to look up what he didn't know—it had been too purposeful, too strange to be anything but a message. Now he did, and he suddenly understood.

The name on the stone was "Kudo Shinichi", and the kanji was for "one truth"*. The chrysanthemum's meaning expanded.

The seventeen-year-old boy had been in the paper, murdered trying to save his seven-year-old cousin, who was still missing. The message made a tragic sense.

 _I love you, Shinichi, and now that you've been taken from me, I will bring those who killed you to justice. You will be avenged. I will win for you._

Whoever had left it was intending to track down the killers (who either still had the seven-year-old or had killed him, too) and had loved— _still_ loved—the high-school detective.

The old gardener looked at the most intricate message he'd ever seen written with flowers and offered up a prayer to Inari that whoever had left it was granted success.

 _xxxx_

"What should we do, James?" Jodie Starling rubbed at her face, looking away from the horrible words in the paper. Edogawa Conan was missing, had been missing for two weeks. "The Boss…"

"What _can_ we do?" James Black closed his eyes, "Two weeks… you know Conan-kun. If he'd been able, he would have escaped or at least gotten a message out by now. Since he hasn't…"

"He's either hurt or…" she couldn't say it.

"Shin de*," a new voice joined in, heavy and solemn, the Japanese a startling change from the English they had been speaking.

Two guns were out and aimed at— _nothing?_ "What the-"

A white-clad form dropped down from the ceiling in a fluttering trail of cloth, and two guns dipped slightly in sheer surprise.

"Kaitou… Kid?" the gaping was understandable, considering, and Kid was in no mood to joke.

"Edogawa Conan is dead," he stated, still in Japanese even though it was obvious he had understood the English. "I… was not fast enough. However… he made it clear we have a common enemy, and I would see his mission completed."

"If… why didn't you report it? Why didn't you bring him back!?" Jodie reached out with both hands, not expecting to make contact, but Kid didn't even attempt a dodge.

He let her grab white cloth, let her cling and shake him, his voice low and harsh as he replied. "There _wasn't_ —it was—it was like he was burning up from inside, and his skin started _steaming,_ and… there was _nothing_ _left._ "

Jodie's fingers went numb, and she stumbled forward. Kid caught her by the shoulders, steadying her with a too-tight grip, and James made a choked sound behind her, gasping out horror-filled words. "They forced that on a _child?_ "

Shuuichi had written a report on it; an untraceable poison—not because the poison itself disappeared, but because it caused a body to literally self-destruct, becoming little more than vapor and lingering protein residue. It only worked if introduced into a live body, and Shuu had called it 'disturbing' to see even in lab-mice with a mention that it looked painful.

Jodie managed to look up in time to see Kaitou Kid's expression—what of it could be seen—twist in pained grief. Kaitou Kid was showing an emotion other than superior amusement, not even trying to hide it. That was…

"Boss said you were a big help sometimes, when he ran into cases where people were trying to frame you or use your heists for something," she pushed back her grief to deal with later, trying to steady her voice and partly succeeding. Conan would have heard the thief out, if nothing else, and even Shuu probably would have taken the time to listen. How could she do less?

Kid released her shoulders, letting her stand on her own, a melancholy smile quirking his lips, "We made an unstoppable team."

"You really… cared about the Boss, didn't you?" Jodie asked quietly.

Kid's smile became a little more sad, a glint of tired grief mingling with remembered amusement in his visible eye. "He was… the only one who ever kept up with me. The only reason he never _caught_ me was that he didn't think I was dangerous enough to deserve the treatment he gave killers. I would have counted him my dearest friend if he'd have let me get away with it… but those soccer balls of his _hurt._ "

Jodie managed a smile, wanting to ask more, but Kid shook his head, "That's not why I'm here, though. Tantei-kun told me where to get everything he'd compiled on the Crows. I have… quite a bit here, as well as what I've learned of 'my' branch. I think it's information you could use… but I would also like to offer my services in bringing them down."

"You…"

Kid's expression shuttered, a cool smirk (not quite the one from heists, but one that was as concealing) sliding into place, his eyes suddenly becoming as distant and unreadable as the moon he so often emulated. "I will clip those black wings, but you have a right to have a hand in striking them from our sky as well."

Jodie nodded, feeling James' hand drop heavy on her shoulder, a weight that was less comforting than unifying. Edogawa Conan, undersized eight-year-old who had known all too much about what they were facing, who had appeared from nowhere two years before, who had lined out plans that had _Akai Shuuichi_ stop and listen and _use_ those plans, who disarmed bombs and took down murderers, who had knocked a military helicopter that the Black had somehow acquired out of the sky with a launched _spotlight,_ who had always seemed utterly unstoppable…

… was dead. The best chance they'd had, even better than Akai had been by the man's own admission. But…

He'd somehow managed to give them _Kid_ to take his place.

Maybe… maybe they still had a chance, even with the bright-burning spirit of their greatest hope snuffed out.

"Tantei-kun can't settle his debt, FBI-san," Kid stated, soft and sad and inescapably gentle. "But Tantei-kun was as much family as blood, and so his debt passes to me. And I will not leave that debt unpaid."

Family?

"Who… are you?" She didn't expect an answer, not really.

"The son of one they took. That one—was Tantei-kun's godfather. As for the rest… Tantei-kun did not tell you, and so I will not. Other than that…" he tossed something at her, and she caught it on reflex, to look down at something small and…

A memory stick. Did that mean…

Jodie looked up, a question on her lips, only to find Kid gone.

"What is it?" James asked behind her.

Jodie turned and handed him the stick, "I think… it's information."

 _xxxx_

 _* Not accurate to canon. I don't actually know more than somewhere around five kanji, but it's been pointed out that Shinichi's name is written as 'new one' in the actual series._

 _*Shin de (i masu) roughly translates to 'is dead', from what I understand._


	2. 2 Maintaining

_I am officially trying to finish this story as quickly as I can, mainly because it's in my head unless I write it down. I don't mind dwelling on Lucid Dreams while working in the pasture, but this 'verse is a little depressing for that to be fun._

 ** _2  
Maintaining_**

Hakuba kept a discreet eye on his classmate—only managing 'discreet' because everyone else was doing much the same, only more obviously. Kuroba Kaito was… quiet. Kuroba Kaito was pranks and laughter and disruption, an instigator of mop-chases and a school-wide known clown with the skills of a professional magician to back it up.

'Quiet' was unusual. Usually, quiet was a scary lull that would end in more spectacular than usual ridiculousness and embarrassment for all; but now, after an accidental admission that he'd held someone he'd known well enough for no-suffix, given-name familiarity as that person had died _screaming…_

Quiet was _worrying_.

Hakuba hadn't heard gossip outside of the classroom, and knew even _inside_ the classroom, he was the only one who knew exactly how much Kudo Shinichi had meant to Kuroba. And 'worrying' barely _began_ to cover it.

Two weeks to the day since Kudo Shinichi had been murdered trying to protect his eight-year-old relative, and Edogawa Conan had not been found. Kaitou Kid had left a note on the desk in the Mouri Detective Agency, heavily implying that he was looking for the boy.

Edogawa himself was not one to sit idly. It was unlikely that he was still alive. The thought that Kudo had died in vain was…

Hakuba had never met the Heisei Holmes, but the knowledge that he'd died for Edogawa, whom he had not only met but been both unnerved and impressed by, was… somehow both heartening and heartbreaking. News and tabloids and websites had all labeled the other teen 'cold'. Some called him ruthless.

Nakamori-keibu had called him 'a good kid' and 'always right'.

Anyone willing to take an overdose on a torture drug because a young but distant relative's life was being threatened… that was not cold. That was…

It didn't matter. Edogawa hadn't been found, and he wouldn't have stayed held or quiet long. It was almost certain that the boy was dead.

Hakuba _had_ known Edogawa Conan, though not well. The thought of his tiny body (so undersized for an eight-year-old, barely looking more than five) cold and broken and unfound, was a slow horror in his gut. That Kudo had died in vain…

It would make this even _worse._ Kuroba was drawn and tired and thinner than he had been two weeks before, eyes dull and distant. Nakamori-san couldn't get much reaction from him, and Hakuba hadn't even fared as well as she. No one else got any response at all; he did his work and sat in his seat and didn't answer if the teacher called on him or react to the dwindling attempts to draw him out of his obviously dark thoughts.

There were very few people that Hakuba could count as more than acquaintances. Edogawa Conan had (oddly) been one. Nakamori Aoko was another.

Kuroba Kaito was someone he'd learned (however reluctantly) that he could count on even if he didn't want to. A _friend_ , even, though he wouldn't have admitted it fifteen days before.

And Kuroba was fading away before his eyes, nothing more than a shadow of who he'd been before, and Hakuba tried not to acknowledge the pain he felt on the magician's behalf.

… Suicide was beginning to look more possible.

(That thought scared him.)

 _xxxx_

Kaito neither knew nor cared what Hakuba was thinking about, watching him with worried eyes. He had other things to think on, other things to plan for, and another 'meeting' to get to with Conan's FBI people.

They didn't know it, of course, but he fully intended to make use of their talents—and protect them to the best of his ability. Shinichi had cared about them, after all, and that was enough reason to see them safe even if Kaito himself hadn't already been inclined to protect anyone he could from those black-clothed bastards.

It was only that Shinichi would be… would _have been_ … angry to see him neglect himself completely that had him forcing himself to eat and sleep, at least a little. He didn't want to waste the time.

Also, as Kid, he needed to keep his strength up, or the next heist someone might get hurt. The police had no idea how many injuries he'd prevented, using pranks and traps to keep the Taskforce and other officials from running each other down or stop them from walking out into a sniper's line-of-sight on a rooftop.

So. He wasn't eating as much as he should, he _knew_ that, but more than a few bites had him feeling sick every time he tried. He'd taken to eating supplements and protein bars even though he didn't like them, because he needed the nutrients and he couldn't get himself to eat a full meal.

He wasn't sleeping enough, either, and he knew that, too. The only nights he slept more than an hour or two were the ones where he dreamed of holding Shinichi while everything burned around them both, because those were the dreams that hurt the least.

Replays of that night, of Conan screaming and thrashing as he became Shinichi only to fall far too still, were the worst.

He would wake from those memories and not sleep again until the next night.

But he needed to get some proper rest before setting up his next heist, and he knew it. Shinichi wouldn't want him to make stupid mistakes from exhaustion. Wouldn't want him to get caught or die. Kaito _knew_ that.

He rubbed a hand over his face, setting his pencil down and ignoring Hakuba's sharpening gaze. He needed to _sleep,_ but he wasn't going to be able to without… Well, he could always gas himself. It wasn't like he didn't have enough soporific inhalants to knock himself out for a night or three.

Kaito shook his head, shoved his things back into his book-bag, and stood up. "I'm going home," he stated, tired and low.

The teacher didn't stop him.

He'd rest for the remainder of the day and go check in with the FBI in the evening. After that, he had a heist to plan.

He needed to get himself back in top form if he was going to bring down his Tantei-kun's killers.

 _xxxx_


	3. 3 Planning

.

 ** _3  
Planning_**

It wasn't difficult to track down Tantei-kun's FBI agents. He'd gotten his monocle upgraded by Agasa-hakase, after all, to mimic Tantei-kun's glasses, and had a rather large arsenal of tracking stickers thanks to the man.

A man who, like his tiny scientist charge, wanted to see the reason for Tantei-kun's death obliterated. They were more than willing to help him, and between them, Jii, and Kaito's own abilities… he was going to do this. He _could._

If only he had realized that when he'd met Edogawa Conan… perhaps things would be different. Perhaps he would have been able to steal a sample of that poison in time for Haibara Ai to make an antidote that wouldn't have turned lethal.

Perhaps. But it made no difference, now, and all he could do was _avenge._

Tantei-kun's FBI were surprised to see him again, not long before midnight, and more surprised at the second flash drive he offered, having spent five hours scouting the city for places he suspected housed nesting crows. Three really had.

"How?"

Kid smiled, Kaito far more weary behind his Poker Face than he dared let them witness. "Magic, FBI-san. They only see what I let them see."

There were tentative plans sketched out for handling each hideout on that drive, but Kaito wasn't going to hang around long enough to say more. There was one more thing he had to do tonight.

 _x_

 _Garnet Light  
Stealing Shadow  
A Trickster's Day Strikes One  
Kaitou Kid (doodle)_

 _x_

Kaito spared moment to wonder how long it would take Nakamori and company to figure it out this time. Maybe Hakuba would get it. Tantei-kun would have…

… but Tantei-kun wasn't there anymore.

Kaito closed his eyes against the prick of tears and wished that somehow, this was just a lingering nightmare.

 _xxxx_

The report of a heist note caught Hakuba's attention the next morning more sharply than anything else had in the past week. Nakamori didn't even protest his presence at the station, only showing him the note and going back to work on trying to find an answer to the short riddle.

It _looked_ authentic, but… if Kid and Kuroba were one person, then…

Hakuba had promised to try and keep an eye on him, try and keep him safe. If Kuroba was planning on pulling a heist with how tired and depressed he was… Hakuba didn't have proof aside from what he'd seen and what he'd heard Edogawa Conan snarl angrily one day as Kid had dropped him off on top of Hakuba (literally, dropping him from a moving hang-glider three feet above Hakuba's head and sending them _both_ tumbling to the ground) after having snagged the boy in both arms and jumped off the roof.

Hakuba had never expected to be _grateful_ that Kid had that hang-glider built into his cape, but Edogawa's almost subvocalized 'damn snipers' had his heart catch in his throat. Before he could even ask, the boy had disappeared as quickly and thoroughly as Kid (or Kuroba) ever did.

 _Snipers._

He'd seen the glint of metal from other rooftops and windows from time to time. Until he'd heard that, though, he'd always assumed it was cameras from the more intrepid Kid-fan photographers.

Sniper-scopes hadn't even crossed his mind—but after spending much more time watching one day, he saw the flare of lit gunpowder from one of those metallic glints and he'd known that the eight-year-old had been _right_.

And unafraid.

What had Edogawa faced, to be so fearless?

He'd taken to paying more attention to the boy whenever they were near each other. That boy had the entirety of the Division Ones across Japan dancing to his tune, maneuvering them either entirely on his own or through Kogoro or Hattori Heiji. He handled threats to his life as though they were routine.

Maybe they were. Or… _had been._ Because… Hakuba knew as well as he was sure anyone else who had met the boy did: Edogawa Conan was dead. There was no way he would have stayed captured so long.

Kid had cared about the boy, and Kuroba's deepening depression said that he knew as well as Hakuba did that there was no way he could be alive.

Snipers, heist, and that empty gaze in the classroom added up to a picture that Hakuba did _not_ want to see.

Instead of heading home, he made his way towards Kuroba's house.

 _xxxx_

Aoko didn't know what to do. Kaito wasn't talking to her—Kaito wasn't talking to _anyone_ —and her Tou-san had asked her to keep an eye on him. She knew that whatever Kaito had been through, her Tou-san had seen something of it, knew more than she did.

He wouldn't tell her, but there was worry and sadness in his eyes whenever he glanced in the direction of Kaito's house next door or the picture of her and Kaito as enthusiastic eight-year-olds at the park.

Kaito hadn't come over in two weeks. Kaito had barely _spoken_ in two weeks, quiet and studious in a way that broke her heart.

He hadn't even been this broken after Toichi-san had died, and Aoko wanted to go over and make him dinner, threaten him with fish, hit him with her mop, _anything_ to make him react.

But everything she'd tried so far had just made him draw in on himself more, and a prior promise to house-sit for a friend in Haido for the weekend was making it so she couldn't go over until Monday, anyway. She was relieved to see Hakuba walking down the street as she closed her front door behind her.

"Hakuba-kun!"

He startled a bit, but nodded back, "Nakamori-san."

"Look, could you check in on Kaito for me? I have to go—he hasn't been answering his door, though, so I'll go grab Tou-san's key for you."

Hakuba looked a bit shell-shocked, but nodded, so Aoko ran back into her house, barely pausing to kick off her shoes before digging their key to Kaito's house out of a kitchen drawer.

Back outside, shoes back on, and she pushed the key into Hakuba's hand. "He won't talk to me," she told him, voice wavering a bit. "He won't talk to Dad, either, so… can you try?"

Hakuba nodded again, "I'll go check on him."

She didn't bother to ask why he was in the neighborhood. He'd probably been planning on it before, and even if he hadn't, she was only grateful that he'd agreed. "Thanks, Hakuba-kun."

Maybe the detective could get Kaito to talk to him.

 _xxxx_


	4. 4 Seeing

.

 ** _4  
Seeing_**

Hakuba hesitated a long moment, key in hand. It seemed more than slightly intrusive…

He rang the doorbell and waited.

Again.

After the third time, he gave in and unlocked it with the key Nakamori-san had given him, setting his shoes aside in the genkan and making his way into the house.

The kitchen table had several items on it, and Hakuba stopped to examine them. A half-eaten protein bar, a barely-touched mug of (long-cold) tea, and a bottle that a closer look showed held a ginger-based nausea medication. It would be impossible to overdose on that one, as it didn't hold any chemical compounds that interfered with the body, so…

Was _that_ why Kuroba hadn't been eating? Repetitive sickness? Hakuba had heard of reactions to stress or grief causing stomach upset, but for this long…?

A glance in the refrigerator showed several nutritional supplements and water bottles, so at least the magician was _trying_ to keep himself healthy. Further investigation around the ground floor didn't yield much else aside from a small memorial shrine in the living room, Kuroba Toichi's picture inside.

Hakuba headed up the stairs, calling his classmate's name as he did so. If Kuroba was home, he didn't want it to seem like he was sneaking, after all.

At the lack of response, Hakuba investigated the toilet, checking the medicine cabinet—sleeping pills. A flare of worry had him pulling the bottle down to check the contents; seal broken, but almost completely full. So. Kuroba had taken a few, then decided to stop?

Nightmares, probably, and the inability to wake would have caused further distress.

Was Kuroba simply not home? If that was the case, then maybe Hakuba should just leave, but he decided to check the other rooms just in case—one a guest room, one obviously Kuroba's mother's, and the last-

"-Kuroba!" alarm spiked through him on seeing the figure curled on the bed, half-covered by a blanket and almost fetal in his position. Not _responding-!_

A quick step closer and he could see Kuroba was breathing, steady and slow. Asleep?

Closer check, and yes, asleep. Deeply so. No sign of dreams, no sign of any Kid-related pellets, but a small-faced watch of the same style he'd seen on Edogawa and his friends, the face open and the lines looking oddly like crosshairs.

All right. So. Later, then.

Hakuba turned to leave the room, and another memorial shrine caught his eye, set up small and neat on Kuroba's desk, and the face in the picture had Hakuba drawing a shocked breath.

In black-and-white newspaper and magazine photos (he'd never bothered to look for more), he hadn't been able to tell how unnervingly _alike_ Kudo looked to Kuroba. Seeing that black-framed photo with a single red rose placed in front of it was...

He swallowed once and forced himself to look away, suddenly feeling like a terrible intruder. Kuroba wasn't a self-danger, a least not a _deliberate_ one, at this point. He had no cause to be looking at something so private.

He walked down the stairs, picked up his backpack from the genkan, and set himself at the kitchen table, pulling out his schoolwork.

He wanted to leave, but that felt too much like lying. He would wait until Kuroba woke up and see if he could get in the only conversation he was worried enough to try for. Even if it did involve bringing up the 'Kid' thing again.

Hakuba no longer cared about turning him in if he was, not after seeing him so utterly _shattered_. Now, he just wanted to know Kuroba wasn't going to get himself killed.

 _xxxx_

Kaito walked down the stairs to see something—or, rather, some _one_ —he didn't really want to deal with draped across schoolbooks on his kitchen table. "Damn it, Hakuba, how did you even get in here?" he grumbled, half under his breath. He may not want to deal with the British detective, but Hakuba was sleeping in what was probably an uncomfortable position, two chapters ahead of where they were in their history class, and it was nearing one in the morning.

Considering he was still in his school uniform, he'd probably been in the house half the day. Kaito wondered what the detective had investigated—because detectives did that, even when they weren't actively _trying_ too—and whether he had the energy to care.

He decided not. Still, Hakuba was obviously worried about him, and he probably owed him at least a more comfortable place to sleep than the book-laden table.

Kaito sighed and shook his classmate awake.

"Wh—Kuroba?" Hakuba blinked, shaking his head blearily. "Why are you…"

"You're sleeping on my kitchen table," Kaito informed.

"I—what?" Hakuba looked around in obvious confusion.

"Jeez, Hakuba, are you always this slow when you wake up, or is it just that it's barely able to be called morning?"

The blond blinked again, then sat up straighter, "Kuroba? This is… the most animated I've seen you since—" he cut himself off, grimacing, but the unspoken words hit Kaito in the chest like a hammer.

He stepped back, bowing his head, one hand halfway to that same clutching motion Shinichi had made as he'd first begun to scream, struck silent at the unintended reminder.

Hakuba went a little pale, but Kaito couldn't bring it in himself to care. "Please, just go."

"I—Kuroba…"

There was something in his tone that let Kaito know he truly hadn't meant to say that, hadn't meant to bring the pain slamming back so much harder and faster than it would have had he taken the rest of his night like normal, planning out the details of the heist and enough backup plans to see himself and his audience safe against undesirable (but not quite _undesired_ , as every time they showed, he got more information on them) elements.

He had been intending to scope out another few possible hideouts, as well, and stock some of his less-used safehouses in case he needed to get those FBI people somewhere fast. See if he could find a way _inside_ a Crow nest, get a layout and a number.

As long as he was _fighting_ , he could keep the pain as a dull reminder. That, though—that was… forefront, lull in the battle, a shot to the heart.

Hakuba drew in a breath, clearly steeling himself, "Kuroba. I know you've never admitted it, and right now, I'm not sure I even would care if you are or not, but—if you _are_ Kid, can you promise me you won't do anything stupid? Edogawa-kun mentioned snipers at heists, and…"

Kaito wanted to bark out denial, more on habit than anything else at this point, but Hakuba's earnest worry got him to quell the urge. "If I _were_ Kid," he said instead, harsh and low, "I would _never_ hand them another life. Now either leave or lock yourself in the guest room for the rest of the night," he whirled away, barely pausing to grab a protein bar and water bottle before heading to the workshop, only hesitating long enough to be sure Hakuba wasn't following him and locking the mechanism behind him.

He still had a heist to plan.

 _xxxx_


	5. 5 Remembering

.

 ** _5  
Remembering_**

He still didn't have proof (and at this point wouldn't have turned him in if he had), but Hakuba noticed two things about the heist note. One, the date and time were a bit odd, at least compared to Kid's usual (one in the morning on the thirty-first of October, as the only other 'Trickster's Day' Hakuba or anyone else had been able to come up with was the first of April, which wouldn't be until the next year) and the apparent target was kept in an odd location.

A shrine. And, okay, this _was_ Kaitou Kid, who tended to be a bit ridiculous, but a shrine? Not only that, but a shrine with a window made of a bronze mesh with thin-cut garnet slivers to send red light cascading down during the day, scattering across a large piece of smoky quartz that was about as far from gem-quality as quartz could be. The low-grade garnet pieces in the window would probably be worth more, and the shrine was to Izanami*, of all deities.

So why?

Three days later, he found out. He also found out that the target had never been the rock.

Blue roses, the kind that were genetically white but had a vibrant blue pigment-rich bark packed around the roots to make them look like they were naturally growing blue as even the youngest petals and buds would have pulled that blue into them. Expensive and difficult to procure, at best, and Kid had them raining from thin air through the light shimmering through the window he had somehow rigged a spotlight to, reflected and reflected and reflected through smoked mirrors none of them had noticed that swept the light into a flat sort of garnet not unlike a foggy day, turning the area into a surreal, dreamlike landscape without discernable shadows.

Everything made sense. This wasn't a _heist,_ this was a memorial. To Kid, blue roses were a symbol of one tiny glasses-wearing boy who probably wasn't going to be found again. So, either a memorial or a declaration of intent—or both.

Kid wasn't smirking like usual, either, and the expression on his face was a much quieter sort of smile.

Someone called out a question, a news camera panning in towards the thief standing on air (probably not, but it sure _looked_ like it) in the midst of swirling blue. "Kid-san! Why have you picked a place like this for a heist? What gem are you after?"

"Ah, about that… I am not here to take anything but the shadows this place holds, though they will surely return with my leaving. I have been unable to recover the one thing I would like to steal the most… and so, I will do this much, at least. I owe him that and more."

 _Nakamori_ hesitated in giving the order to apprehend, and the reporter took the chance to ask another question. "What—or who—are you referring to, Kid-san?"

"Tantei-kun," the sudden, quiet seriousness was jarring, because the smile vanished and Kid may have had a wide range of smiles, but he had never shown this kind of dead serious melancholy before. "I cannot find Edogawa Conan, and I know my favorite critic well enough to know he would not be easy to _keep_."

He didn't say anything else, instead turning his attention to the scene he was setting, and Hakuba wasn't entirely surprised when Nakamori bowed his head for a moment before quietly ordering his men to stand down. No matter who had set it up or how, some things shouldn't be interrupted.

The world went awash in flames that danced and spun and consumed only those beautiful blue roses, flickering in shades of blue and white, Kid himself standing in the heart of the spinning inferno and remaining somehow untouched.

Thirty seconds later, the flames and lights went out together, Kid disappearing in the darkness with no more sound than wisping smoke.

 _xxxx_

Kaito tilted his head back and stared at the moonless sky, eyes tracing the hazy line of the Milky Way above him. "Did you see it, Tantei-kun?" he asked the darkness. "Did Izanami let you watch from the next world? Do you know how much you came to mean to me?"

He shook himself, sighed, and hopped off the skyscraper he had used as a viewing point. "Either way, Tantei-kun," he murmured to the wind as his glider snapped open, "Neither of your names will be forgotten."

Kaito would make sure of that.

 _xxxx_

Hattori Heiji had paused mid-step on hearing the familiar name from Kaitou Kid on the television. Broadcasted live, of course, anything with Kid was, and even though the hour was not one he would ordinarily have been awake for on a school-night, Heiji had been having trouble settling down to sleep since Kudo had died.

And, damn it, but he _knew_ the thief had known Conan was Kudo, and the sight and quiet grief shown…

Kid was apparently a better guy than Heiji had thought. Kudo had vouched for him, after a fashion, so Heiji was content to leave well enough alone, but that Kaitou Kid had set up an entirely strange not-heist in that eerie, flat light that could have been straight out of a nightmare—or the underworld—as a memorial…

Okay. Even if Heiji _did_ get evidence on who Kid was (the fact that Kuroba had been there when Kudo died painted some strong suspicions, after all), that was enough to have him keep his mouth shut. Kid was honoring Kudo, and that…

Heiji managed a smile, tired and sad though it came out.

Kudo had at least died with someone who cared there for him. It wasn't much, but… it would have to be enough.

 _xxxx_

Hattori Heiji wasn't the only one watching the not-heist. Both Mouri Kogoro and Ran were watching as well, and the name and grim announcement added to blue flame and roses…

Ran started crying, and Kogoro wasn't far from it himself. He knew the odds, better even than Ran did. He knew the kid had gotten himself out of some truly terrifying scrapes. He'd been shot and kidnapped and stuck in elevators with bombs and used as a hostage and never _once_ had he shown fear for himself. Not once did he _give up._

That he hadn't turned up was all but a guarantee that he was dead, and even _Kaitou Kid_ had all but admitted it. On national television, at that.

Damn it all, but Ran was broken up enough by Kudo dying trying to save his precocious little (distant) cousin. That Conan was almost certainly dead as well…

Aside from the dull throb in his chest of 'family lost', because no matter how much he'd tried to convince himself otherwise, Edogawa Conan had become as much _his_ as Ran, it _ached_ to see Ran grieving so.

"Ran…" Kogoro murmured, before shaking his head and picking up his phone. Ordinarily, he wouldn't even think of this, but Ran was always happier with _both_ her parents nearby, even if they were sniping at each other.

A grumpy, half asleep answer and Kogoro swallowed his pride. "Eri. I… need you to come over. Ran needs us both right now."

Because it was always pride that kept them apart, these days. And the one thing that could get Eri to set hers aside was him burying his. Add in that even if she was more distant to Ran than he thought a mother should be, she still loved her daughter...

 _"_ _I'll be there soon."_

 _xxxx_

 _*As far as I know, nothing of the description I gave there actually exists. Just saying. Also, Izanami is a hell-goddess, sort of._


	6. 6 Finding

.

 ** _6  
Finding_**

Weeks melded into months, and Kaito had found out and handed over more information than the FBI had ever managed to get from their spies inside.

He didn't stop going to school, but he had completely lost interest in pranking his schoolmates. His grades were flawless—best in the school, even—and he'd devoted breaks to scouring every chemistry book he could get his hands on. The drug that had ultimately been the cause of his Tantei-kun's death… he couldn't do much about that. That, he would leave to Haibara Ai, if she was even still pursuing it, because it hardly mattered. The odds of survival were so low it was a complete miracle that two people had.

And Haibara wasn't showing the same signs of degradation.

He sighed, closing a professional-level reference book on biochemistry and looking back at the chemical reactions he'd been working out on paper. Not poisons or antidotes—well, not intended as such, though overdose could be dangerous—but aerosol hypnotics and paralytics. Ones that wouldn't cause death without _extreme_ misuse, but would keep an enemy (this was not going to be used on heists, only against the ones who'd taken Shinichi from him) down for at least two hours.

Either way, though, lunch was almost over and he hadn't eaten, yet.

His mother would be upset with him if Aoko told her, and if she reported to the Kudos, it would be pretty much guaranteed that Shinichi's father would guilt-trip him for not taking care of himself. Again. Nevermind that he was pretty sure neither his mother or the Kudos were even in Japan.

Kaito slid the book and his notes into his bag and stood, heading back to the classroom to grab his bento.

At least he'd gotten to the point he could eat again, though he didn't take pleasure in it. He just wanted this to be _over._

Another heist tonight. One closer, he hoped, to laying his Father's ghost to rest… and the FBI were making progress. Maybe he'd be able to give peace to them _both_.

 _xxxx_

Hakuba kept a now-customary eye on what used to be his most disruptive classmate, hiding a frown as he watched Kuroba pop the lid off his bento and eat with a near-mechanical regularity of motion. The magician barely seemed to notice what he was eating, and Nakamori-san was shooting looks of resigned worry in his direction.

Kuroba seemed… _stable_ , Hakuba supposed. He'd settled into a routine that was nothing like it had been before Kudo had died and Edogawa had disappeared, but he'd at least been eating more than protein bars the past month.

He'd not admitted to being Kid, but he no longer really denied it, not when Hakuba was the only one around. He hadn't explained himself, hadn't left evidence that wasn't only the most circumstantial, and hadn't stopped pulling heists.

Kaitou Kid still pulled just as many pranks and traps and general ridiculousness on the Taskforce as usual, though every single heist had a single blue rose involved somewhere. Sometimes Kid wore it and sometimes it was left in the place of the stolen gem, but there was always one there.

A strange sort of memorial, but…

Edogawa had meant something to Kid—to Kuroba. Kudo had meant as much or more, but Kid would not admit to knowing him past a single heist not-encounter, where they had never met face-to-face. Kuroba admitted to knowing Edogawa through Kudo, but only that.

The fact that it had been over five months and Kuroba had only just _begun_ to recover… that was… sobering. He'd kept to the single line of reassurance he had conceded to give, had been careful of the heist-snipers and actually managed to get the police aware of them with Hakuba's input, but…

Hakuba shook his head, glancing back at the copy of the latest note. Tonight, and for an old and not very valuable dark green emerald with a single crack flawing it to not quite gem quality despite its larger size.

He never had figured out what Kuroba— _Kid_ —was looking for, what the actual qualifications of his targets were. This was the strangest actual mineral yet, though the baseball had certainly been weirder.

Hakuba set those thoughts aside and refocused as the first afternoon teacher walked in.

Class now, thief later.

 _xxxx_

His Poker Face flickered as he held the flawed stone up to the moonlight, not truly expecting anything despite the age of the stone—but expectation or not, there was a tiny point of red flickering to life in the crack through the green.

It broadened, spread, sending bloody light cascading over his fingers and Kaitou Kid closed his hand around the thing he'd been seeking so long, through two generations.

 _Pandora._

In his hand.

A flicker of motion and the crack of a bullet off concrete had Kid (he had to be Kid, he didn't have _time_ not to be) securing the emerald in his breast-pocket, unseen, right above his heart.

Snake favored heart-shots, after all. Vest or no, another layer of protection was never a bad thing, and if a bullet managed to shatter that accursed rock, all the better.

The door opening, and—"Tantei-san, I would suggest leaving. They aren't planning on letting me go, tonight. Not now that I have what they want."

"What they-"

"Not _now,_ Hakuba-san," Kid slid himself between the sniper and his remaining detective. "I will not lose you to them as well."

Another shot and a sense of impact had Kid stumble three steps back, the crack of stone echoing in his ears.

He raised a hand to his chest, feeling only shards, and grinned in victory. "Ah, Snake, to strike before seeing! You have done my work for me, this night."

A howl of rage from the other building, gun-muzzle shifting, and Kid spun, shoving Hakuba back into the stairwell and slamming and blocking the door behind him before heading towards Snake in a rooftop dive. Hang gliders were so useful for some things.

Pandora was shattered, and Snake was _his._

 _xxxx_

A sniper on the next building over, drugged unconscious, bound in enough pink duct-tape to hold an elephant, with a victorious little note, complete with Kid-doodle.

 _Nakamori-keibu,_

 _This man is part of the reason I have taunted you and yours so long. He and his employers have been looking for a particular gem, one with legends of immortality to its name. Disregarding whether or not it actually existed, I was of the firm belief that if it somehow_ did, _they must not acquire it._

 _The gem's name was Pandora, said to shine red under the light of the moon and 'weep tears of immortality' as the Volley Comet passed. The emerald will not be returned. Even had it not glowed bloody red under moonlight, I had it in my chest-pocket and Snake has always favored heart-shots._

 _This will be my last heist. I have gained and seen destroyed that which they sought. My time is over._

 _Fare thee well._

 _Kaitou Kid (doodle)_

 _xxxx_


	7. 7 Hunting

.

 ** _7  
Hunting_**

The headline ' **Kaitou Kid: Retiring!?** ' had Jodie frowning and actually taking the time to read the article, which included a copy of the note left next to a tape-bound (pink, to add insult to injury) Black Org sniper.

It seemed… authentic. Though Kid hadn't originally said why he was staging heists—and, after reading the line on immortality, it was quite clear why he hadn't—if he'd done what he'd set out to do, then…

Was he still going to help them?

 _xxxx_

Kaito spent the next two days going through the Kid workshop and stripping everything of Kid-signature pieces. Oh, he wasn't planning on giving up the items themselves, but Kid-white was redone in matte dark greys, flat colors that would blend easily into shadows.

What was left… he didn't have to make himself a target, to draw attention away from those he had invited to witness. Now, it would be better to slide in and out unnoticed, an entirely different type of Kaitou. This was no longer a high-stakes game.

His father's purpose was fulfilled, and so the legacy was no longer necessary. Now, _now_ he was stepping in for Shinichi in what was nothing other than a _hunt._

Let Kaitou Kid be laid to rest. Kuroba Kaito, however, still had a part left to play. So, clover and edge painted over with dark grey and the lens coated in a anti-glare formula (he wouldn't have bothered keeping it at all, but that Agasa had set it up like Conan's glasses), clothes simple and practical and just as dark a grey, and he was ready to track down Conan's FBI again.

He wasn't sure if it was a credit to Agasa-hakase's inventiveness or a mark against the FBI that they _still_ hadn't located the tracer in Jodie-sensei's (as Tantei-kun had called her, so Kaito would call her) purse-latch. It made her ridiculously easy to find.

He waited until she was alone before revealing himself.

A yelp and a scramble for something weapon-shaped tapered into hesitation as she frowned at him, though he was pretty sure she'd grabbed ahold of her gun with the hand hidden in her purse. "Jodie-sensei," he greeted in Kid's smooth tone.

The woman relaxed a little, taking in his attire with a confused expression. "Kid-san?"

Kaito shook his head, dropping the over-the-top formality of Kid' taunting tone. "No. Kaitou Kid… his ghost was laid to rest, his purpose fulfilled. But I owe it to Tantei-kun to see _his_ task complete, as well… but since I no longer need to draw all eyes to me, you will not see me in Kid's whites again.

"Kuroba Kaito, at your service."

A middle, a beginning, a type of end.

Kaito would see them win.

 _xxxx_

Days ticked into weeks, but they were making more progress than the FBI had apparently ever dared to hope. Mere months, since Shinichi had died, and already Kaito had pushed so fast and so silent that the Crows didn't even know how very compromised their Japanese bases were.

(If only he had thought to do it _before.)_

Through those, and some very careful sneak-and-hack, the bases in just about every major country were coming to light. Lists of operatives scattered throughout government, military, and police forces across the world weren't nearly as hard for Kaito to piece together as the crime syndicate probably thought they'd be, and they had enough to ensure a complete shutdown so long as it all happened at the same time.

Black plants in the CIA and most other groups—interestingly, the one thing the FBI seemed to do markedly better on than all the other large-scale policing forces was keeping infiltrators _out_ —were revealed to uncompromised higher-ups and plans involving everyone from the Japanese Secret Police to the ICR* were making as carefully subtle of joint-plans as only Kaitou Kid could have orchestrated.

Or Kudo Shinichi, but they would never know that. Or the Kaitou Kid part, for that matter, as only some few in the FBI knew he'd been involved at all. To everyone else, it was either 'a Japanese informant' or 'Kuroba Kaito'.

Mostly the former, thankfully, and they were only a week out from final-strike.

One week, and it would be over. One week before Kaito could shatter open Shinichi's last case and lay the meitantei to rest.

Only one.

 _xxxx_

 _*Investigative Committee of Russia; basically the Russian version of the FBI._


	8. 8 Catching

_Only one more chapter after this, to wrap things up. Meanwhile..._

 ** _8  
Catching_**

It was easier than Kaito had feared, though not as easy as he'd hoped. Across the world, Black Org. safehouses and bases and labs were invaded, anyone within either arrested or—in the case of those who resisted _too_ violently—killed.

Then there were the smart ones that simply bolted. Some even got away, but with the more complete information that ended up being gleaned from computer systems and even some actual paper files, it wasn't so difficult to find out who.

Many of the scientists and accountants—and of _course_ they had accountants _everywhere_ , they were a large-scale project and needed to know where their money was—were held under duress, as Sherry had been. Those would be let off lightly, probably, as they were as much victims as those many, many, _many_ people who had disappeared or suffered fatal accidents.

There were lists. Columns of names and 'Kill confirmed/unconfirmed' marked off.

Almost all were confirmed, and in one lab in Tokyo, Shinichi's name was there… confirmed _._

Haibara had told him she'd 'confirmed' it herself, because she suspected he was alive and didn't want anyone keeping an eye out for him. Vermouth—who had slipped their traps, of course, as good with disguise as she was—had known the one she called 'Silver Bullet' or 'Cool Guy' wasn't dead, and had rather deliberately left the mark on 'confirmed' because she didn't want him to die, though Kaito (and Haibara) still didn't know her reasons. In the end, she had added 'Edogawa Conan' to the list as well, as no one else would have. _Confirmed_.

She was dangerous, more dangerous than anyone else in the whole damn Organization, so far as he knew, but she wasn't actively hostile. She'd _wanted_ it brought down, and had apparently wanted the cause of Tantei-kun's death to be known for it.

Vodka ended up being shot as he covered Gin's escape.

Kaito had been unwilling to let _that one_ go. Gin would _pay,_ and he would pay the way Shinichi had wanted him to, locked in a prison cell for the rest of his life. But he was going to be thoroughly humiliated, and the only things he seemed to pride himself on were his skills as a killer and not getting caught.

Two razor-edged cards, carefully aimed, and Gin cried out in startled pain, the tendons in the backs of his hands cut, leaving his fingers all but useless.

He wasn't going to be firing a gun that way, and Kaito decided not to let himself be seen as he spun some simple magic tricks into more terrifying counterparts around the man.

Once Gin was terrified— _truly_ terrified, screaming for him to show himself and spinning in wild circles, leaving tiny drops of blood scattered against concrete from damaged hands—Kaito dropped down from above him in a blur of shadowy grey, darting him twice with Tantei-kun's watch as he remembered the story of Gin's resistance to the drug.

"This," he murmured in the man's ear as he swayed, eyes unable to focus, "is for all the people you've forgotten."

Gin crumpled, and Kaito radioed Jodie even as he matter-of-factly taped the Black Org enforcer even more thoroughly than he'd taped Snake, though he had to use the color he brought, which was a boring grey.

Twenty minutes later, they were getting the first reports in from other places.

The Black Organization, in all its silent terror, had been struck a fatal blow. It was _falling._

They had won.

 _xxxx_

"We haven't let your name become public knowledge," Jodie said quietly to the grey-clad teen in front of her, "but some of them got away. Not many, but… the one Kudo-san's information labeled 'Korn' was one of them. If he saw you…"

Eyes so much like little Conan-kun's glanced at her with a wry, tired sort of expression. "I'll keep an eye out. Here," he handed her a pair of glasses— _Conan's_ glasses.

"Where did you…"

"Agasa-hakase had several spares on hand in case of emergency. I have a tracker on me that will show up blue—the sticker-tracers show red and the Shonen Tantei's badges show green.* I'll also give you this," he passed a small, egg-shaped thing to her. "It'll vibrate if I press a switch. I'll use it as a panic button if I can't call if find him. You can use the glasses to find me."

Jodie nodded, slipping the object into her pocket, "Good idea. And Kuroba-kun?"

She waited until he looked at her, "Thank you, and… be careful. If you ever decide to leave Japan, I'm pretty sure we could get you citizenship and a job with the FBI without any trouble."

A tired smile, "Thank you for the offer, Jodie-sensei. I'll keep it in mind. For now, though… I'm going home."

Jodie nodded, "Good luck, Kuroba-kun." She didn't know why, but she couldn't quite shake her bad feeling.

It wasn't uncommon before something bad happened, but she held to the hope that it was just leftover nerves and paranoia. After all, that bad feeling had been wrong as often as it was right.

 _xxxx_

Safely back in his own home, Kaito took the time to lay a single pink carnation* in front of his father's picture in the living room shrine before making his way up the stairs and setting another next to the red rose he'd placed in front of Shinichi's picture earlier, not leaving one long enough to wilt.

Another moment to look at that picture, "We got them for you, Tantei-kun. We brought them down, and the stragglers will be caught sooner or later. I only wish I'd helped you in time to make a difference."

But Shinichi wouldn't want him to blame himself. The detective had always cared _so much._ He'd tried to save someone trying to kill him more than once—it was who Shinichi _was._ Had been.

Kaito was tired, and he wanted _so badly_ to just give up, but Shinichi wouldn't want that. His stance on murder and suicide was very clear, and Kaito couldn't bear the thought of facing him in the afterlife at his own hand. Shinichi would never forgive him.

His mother had managed to get a little better, start finding moments of happiness again. It had taken years, but she'd done it. Kaito could do the same.

Someday.

 _xxxx_

 _*Not accurate to canon at present, but I have this belief that Agasa could do it if someone bothered to ask him to._

 _*Pink carnations are a promise: I will not forget you._


	9. 9 Ending

_._

 ** _9  
Ending  
_** _(Beginning)_

Aoko scowled up at her bedroom ceiling; grumpy, ill, and not quite tired enough to go back to sleep. Which left her with thinking, as her dad had taken the day off work—well, sort-of, he'd been fielding phone calls all morning—to take care of her. He'd taken her schoolbooks and confined her to bed with her fever.

She thought about Kaito, and how he hadn't pranked anyone or even smiled in six months. About how Kaito always looked so _sad,_ like Chikage-obaa-san had after Kaito's dad had died.

Chikage had left Kaito behind not too long after that, not even a year, and though she came back often, it was never for _long._ Whenever Aoko saw Chikage look at her son, there would be a shadow in her eyes and her smile would disappear. Even now, eight years later, she was a little broken.

Aoko thought she could hate Kudo Shinichi for taking away Kaito's smile, but she knew that would break Kaito's heart a little more to hear her say.

She wasn't stupid. She'd liked Kaito when they were younger, and he'd teased and flirted—the same way he did with everyone else, guy or girl, and in a way that had never been serious. After a while, she realized that he wasn't going to like her back, and after some thought, she'd admitted that he probably wouldn't be a very good boyfriend anyway. But she still loved him like family, and it broke _her_ heart to see him so broken.

It was obvious that he'd loved Kudo Shinichi, though he hadn't spoken the name to her until that horrible morning when he'd come to school utterly _shattered,_ and not managed to smile since. She was afraid to ask him why, but one day he'd told her anyway.

Kudo Shinichi had been in hiding, trying to stay out of the sights of the very people who had eventually figured out that Edogawa Conan was his (very distant) relative, and had banked on how much Kudo _cared_ when they'd taken the little boy. He hadn't spoken of Kudo because he hadn't wanted to put the person he'd loved in more danger.

He'd laughed, bitter and broken, and said it didn't matter anymore.

So, yes, Aoko thought she could hate Kudo Shinichi for breaking Kaito's heart, except that it hadn't even really been Kudo's fault. He'd been protecting his family, after all, and Aoko understood that.

At the same time, though, she _couldn't_ hate Kudo Shinichi, because Kaito still loved him and Kaito's family—because she knew Kaito loved her like family, too—hating the one he loved would only hurt him more.

If only she knew who'd killed the person Kaito loved, she would hate them instead, but it was always harder to hate what you didn't know than what you did.

 _xxxx_

Hakuba frowned, considering the person at the next desk over. Kuroba seemed… not _happier,_ really, but… lighter. Less stressed.

Also, Nakamori-san hadn't shown up for school, and it was already lunch.

"Aoko's got a fever and her dad's making her stay home," Kuroba informed, not looking up from the bento he was picking bits of vegetable out of to eat one at a time.

Hakuba blinked.

"Wasn't that what you were wondering?"

Hakuba shook his head slightly, "It was, I just didn't think you'd notice."

Kuroba shrugged one shoulder, "You always notice when people break routine and usually wonder why, so…"

Huh. And Kid, true to his last note, hadn't announced a heist in the last month. Still no proof that it had been Kuroba, and since Kuroba's personality had done a complete shift, but Kid's hadn't seemed to…

Well, maybe he hadn't been, after all. At least Kuroba seemed to be doing a little better today. "Would you mind going over todays social studies assignment with me after school?" he asked, more to get a better idea on how Kuroba was doing than get help on the assignment itself.

Kuroba shrugged again, not refusing, so Hakuba took that as a 'yes'.

 _xxxx_

Kaito sighed, trailing after Hakuba as the blond led the way across the school courtyard towards the entrance. He'd not actually been to said blond's house officially or on invitation—Kaitou Kid had been there _unofficially_ , but Hakuba didn't need to know that—

Kaito froze.

Something was _wrong._

A quick scan showed a glint from a higher rooftop three streets over and for an instant, Kaito thought it was aimed at him, but that horrible premonition was of something he would _care_ about losing—

"Hakuba! Get down!"

Hakuba was knocked three feet sideways and off-balance enough to fall, and a sense of sharp impact made Kaito stagger as something cracked against the concrete in front of him in a splatter of blood— _Korn_. Had to be, the only missing sniper good enough to pick out of a crowd and vengeful enough to aim for what would _hurt._

Kaito subtly passed a tracking sticker to the beak of the small dove that had been gamely hiding in his sleeve for the past hour and signaled the flock scattered in trees nearby even as he reached for the trigger in his pocket.

Doves burst up in a swirl of feathers, flying in complex patterns they'd been trained to in order to increase visual confusion towards the sniper on the rooftop. Chichi would plant the sticker on the back of the sniper's collar while the others distracted him before the whole group would scatter, and the tracker would lead the FBI straight to him.

Kaito's knees buckled, his vision fogging. _At least Aoko's not here to see,_ he thought hazily.

The last thing he heard was Hakuba's voice.

 _xxxx_

Hakuba barely managed to catch his classmate as he fell, only distantly noting the flock of doves making a beeline for someone on a rooftop, horror thrumming through him as several of the other students screamed.

He didn't have time to deal with hysterics, and Kuroba was still breathing. _Barely._

Momoi Keiko was standing stunned, but not screaming, so—"Momoi! Call an ambulance, then the police!"

Exit wound, certain lung damage, blood and saliva frothing Kuroba's lips—bad. _Worse_ than bad, and there was no _time—_

He ripped off Kuroba's gakuran and folded it hastily, shouting for one of the shocked boys to get over and _help_ even as he tore off his own. They couldn't put Kuroba on his back; aside from the wound being through-and-through, he'd drown in the blood gathering in his lung.

Damaged lung lower to keep at least one working, pressure on entry wound from the boy he didn't know holding Kuroba's folded jacket to it and Hakuba mirrored the pressure with his own gakuran to the larger exit-wound in front.

Still breathing. Somehow.

"You're not dying, Kuroba," Hakuba snarled, low and desperate and terrified. "Not for me."

Because that shot would have gone straight through his own heart if Kuroba hadn't shoved him away, and _how_ had he known the sniper was there?

Sirens, getting closer.

 _Still breathing._

 _xxxx_

 _"_ _Kaito."_

A voice. Achingly familiar—but impossible. He couldn't be hearing that voice.

 _"_ _Kaito. Do you know what happened?"_

He did, if he thought about it. Maybe he _could_ be hearing that voice, if he was dead or close to it. Hakuba would have been shot if he hadn't pushed him away, but he'd been shot instead.

 _"_ _And I can't blame you for that. I would have done the same."_

Well, at least he wasn't mad about it. Did this mean he could stay? Could follow Shinichi, now?

 _"_ _You're not even eighteen, Kaito. There's so much left for you."_

But he was so _tired._ And he didn't _feel_ like there was much left.

 _"_ _You took up your father's mission, and my own. You completed them both. What about_ your _dreams, Kaito? Didn't you want to bring wonder to this world? Didn't you want a_ family? _"_

He had. But it wouldn't be fair. His father had told him, once, that their family loved like the ravens they were named for: completely, without reservation, and only _once._ If he took a wife, he would never love her the way she would deserve to be loved, and the very thought felt like betrayal.

 _"_ _Then don't. You could adopt, you know, if you get a solid enough financial base. It's uncommon, and not easy to adopt as a single parent, but you could do it. Do some freelance security consulting between magic shows or something. Find a child like us. Brilliant and lonely and needing someone to care."_

That was… he could, he supposed. But it hurt, _so much_ , that Shinichi wasn't there anymore.

 _"_ _I am. You just can't see me. Live your life, Kaito. I can make sure your wound heals completely; that you don't suffer more for this. I'm not going anywhere. I'll still be here in sixty years, eighty. It doesn't matter. There's so much left for you to give. Bring a little wonder back into people's lives."_

But he'd never said what he now knew he should have, because Shinichi had always valued truth. And maybe Shinichi wouldn't have felt the same, but…

 _"_ _Do you think I haven't figured it out by now?"_

Well, when put _that_ way… still, though. He deserved to hear it. Except Kaito couldn't seem to _talk_ in this blank nothingness.

 _"_ _You've said it, though. And I heard you. Did you really think I wouldn't love you back? Ran became a sister, after so long as her little brother. Don't worry so much, Kaito. I'll wait for you."_

That was… comforting. Saddening, but comforting all the same. He'd been right, though, thinking Shinichi would want him to try.

 _"_ _I don't want you to try. I want you to_ live. _"_

Kaito woke.

 _xxxx_


	10. Epilogue

.

 ** _Epilogue_**

He was an old man, now, with an old man's shaky hands that couldn't preform the magic he had once done so effortlessly, but his children—not by blood, though that hardly mattered—and several of his grandchildren and great-grandchildren delighted in making the same magic that he'd used to awe the world.

He'd done as Shinichi had suggested, had brought smiles and wonder and laughter in magic, and security in everything from homes to museums, and when three siblings had been orphaned just after he'd turned twenty-four (ages nine, seven, and three) and he'd seen them, terrified of losing each other after having lost the only other family they'd had…

He'd already been well known and well-off. It hadn't been as difficult as he'd expected to bring them into his family, and he'd come to adore them as much as they eventually did him. It was funny, really, that now the oldest of his children was eighty-one.

He was tired, and the old loss still _ached_ when he thought of it as such, and he'd never forgotten the one he'd cherished most, but he'd found happiness in his children and the smiles and joy of others. He'd done as Shinichi had wanted him to—not just survived but _lived._

He'd kept his youthful escapades to himself, though. He'd been Kaitou Kid for a time, as his father had before him, and he hadn't spoken of it—not even to his children. Not that, and not of Tantei-kun, of Shinichi and Conan being one. He'd written it out, all on paper, and locked it away in a safe that wasn't nearly as secure as the Iron Tanuki but would do all the same.

He'd had his will witnessed and signed, and part of it would be for his grandchildren to have that little section of history given to them. He was old, after all, and tired.

It was a fine night. A full moon, bright and nearly overwhelming, and he felt a moment's wistfulness for adrenaline-fueled chases and open sky.

His eyes slipped closed, and the world fell silent.

Shinichi was there, waiting for him, just as he'd promised.

 _"_ _What do you think, Kaito? Are you ready to fly again?"_

He felt years melt away. With Shinichi, there was only one answer.

 _"_ _Always."_

 _xxxx_


End file.
